


need you (like i need a headache)

by plnkblue



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Angst, Gen, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:20:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22876189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plnkblue/pseuds/plnkblue
Summary: Ventus thinks Vanitas is wrong. Vanitas couldn't disagree more.Nothing's changed between them, has it?
Relationships: Vanitas & Ventus (Kingdom Hearts)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 61





	need you (like i need a headache)

It takes one hundred and seventeen days for Ventus to find Vanitas.

Most of that number is spent in dreamless sleep, his heart searching the vast swaths of darkness that threaten to pull it apart lest he stay in its grasp too long. He pulls right back, and sometimes, he thinks that the darkness answers him with a tug on something beyond his own light. More often than not, though, he’s roused early from slumber, nothing but silent screams of shadows answering his calls.

If he’s being honest with himself, Ventus isn’t entirely sure why he’s determined to keep looking. He made his peace with Vanitas in that world of death and dust, or at least, that’s what he’s tried to tell himself. Maybe it was the way Sora had so brazenly challenged Vanitas’s stance, or maybe it was the bitter way he smiled as he disappeared that contradicted itself in the way that his eyes shone. Maybe it was simply his heart playing catch up after all the years he spent never even realizing that it was incomplete. 

Whatever the catalyst may be, it’s strong enough to make Ventus realize that he made a mistake in letting Vanitas go. 

So he keeps looking.

The act of searching becomes muscle memory soon enough. Ventus thinks it should scare him, really, how easily sleep comes. How sometimes he forgets that the world in which he’s wandering does not belong to the ones who wake. Sometimes, he thinks his heart has been broken in more than just halves, that this other lost fragment must still drift alone in a ten year sleep. Ventus thinks a lot, but no fear ever stops him in his hunt.

He drifts off again tonight, letting his mind carve the familiar path from his head to his heart. When he opens his eyes again, the warm light of his heart greets him. Soft hues of green and blue shimmer like sunlight on the ocean beneath his feet as he touches down on the glass, looking over the station he’s visited countless times since his return home. Ventus exhales slowly, glancing over the crystalline memories, every facet of his heart frozen in time. He knew its stillness well enough by now.

A pathway winds itself from the border of the platform into the endless expanse of darkness, a jarring kaleidoscope of color that stands stark against the void. Pulling himself away from his own heart, Ventus sets off to nowhere in particular. The ground beneath him glows with an artificial brilliance as he walks, a kind of radiance that Ventus can’t ever seem to place the source of. Colors bloom in glittering silhouettes with every step he takes, but they’re the only things that burst to life within this empty space. 

Ventus isn’t sure how long he spends traveling the stained glass paths. In this state of dreaming, time played loose with his thoughts. For all he knew, he’d just lost another year to his wandering mind.

When his thoughts drift to that place, Ventus thinks about waking up. Somewhere in his mind, he knows that Aqua and Terra would never let that happen again. If they couldn’t stop it, then they might enlist in Chirithy’s aid. Ventus knows this. He does. But fear is a funny thing.

A sudden lurching of his heart stops him dead in his tracks, and he feels every one of his limbs freeze up. All the air in his lungs disappears in one tiny, sudden gasp. 

In this place, darkness pulled to play. To devour. It wasn’t the Realm of Darkness, but it was a bridge between it, and darkness was darkness no matter its abode. Ventus knew all too well what the lure of a nightmare felt like, especially here.

This was different. This wasn’t a call, it was an answer.

Heart racing, Ventus takes off running. His feet pound against the glistening pathway with silent echoes as he lets his heart guide him forward. He runs and runs until the darkness gives way to another station, silhouetted vibrancy against pitch black nothingness. He doesn’t stop until he’s climbed to the surface of the structure, burning red light bleeding upwards to blend with resounding greens and golds. Ventus draws new air into his screaming lungs as he takes in the sight of a once familiar battleground, an enduring memory of a temporary union between his heart and Vanitas’s.

Engulfed in the crimson glow, a figure stands. Ventus’s precious breath catches in his throat.

Even bathed in light, Vanitas’s shadow is unmistakable. 

He watches Ventus as he approaches, his gaze unreadable. The opaque mask with all its sharpness and obscurity is nowhere to be found. When Ventus doesn’t open his mouth, Vanitas decides to speak first. “Your heart is loud,” he says, voice low. It sounds almost like a growl. He narrows his eyes. “What do you want?”

Ventus can only stare at him in awe, blinking slowly to make certain that what he’s seeing is real. “I found you,” he breathes out, words awash with an air of relief he wasn’t even aware he was carrying. 

Vanitas tilts his head inquisitively, looking Ventus over before his lips split into a cruel grin, bitter amusement spilling over his skin like a newly fashioned mask. Ventus feels his heart stir with unease at the shift. “So you did. Must’ve been like finding a needle in a haystack, what with all that _light_ you’ve got surrounding you. Congratulations.” He claps his hands together in mock celebration, grin widening as Ventus responds in kind with a frown of his own. “Sorry to break it to you, sunspot, but I don’t have any kind of consolation prize waiting around for you.”

“Stop that,” Ventus bristles, clenching his jaw as he speaks. It won’t do him any good if Vanitas makes a home under his skin before he can talk to him. “You know why I’m here.”

In the vibrant illumination, Vanitas’s hollow smile makes him look like a ghost. “Do I, now? Well, then. Enlighten me anyway.”

Ventus has half a mind to roll his eyes, but he doubts that will buy him any progress here. He always knew that tracking Vanitas down would be the easiest part of this entire process; it was the convincing him to come back with him that was going to be the real challenge. Good thing Ventus was as stubborn as they come. “I came looking for you,” he says, choosing his words carefully. “If you were still out there, I wanted to find you. I just— I wanted to talk to you again. After everything.”

Vanitas’s eyes flash dangerously, a brief moment of honesty that bleeds through the tiny fractures in that spiteful facade of his. Ventus feels something stir within his own chest at the shift in emotion, a sharp, raw blade between the ribs. Had it not passed just as quickly as it had come, he might have been able to name it fear. 

Vanitas fixes him with another smirk, plastic smile pasted right back atop the chipping paint, like it had never started peeling in the first place. “Hmph. So that’s what this is about. You came here, calling out for my heart and hoping I’d run straight back into yours with open arms.” He laughs, a hollow, airy sound that does little to fill the space between them. “Sorry to send you off empty handed, but I’m afraid you’re out of luck. Just go home, Ventus,” he spits, the name dripping like venom from his tongue. 

The mask may have returned to his face, but Ventus can’t miss the way Vanitas’ voice shakes when he says his name. “No.” The quiver in his own voice betrays a flash of that shared anxiety, and he repeats the syllable with renewed determination. “No. I meant what I said back then, Vanitas. You’re coming home, too.”

Vanitas stares at him, blinking slowly. Then he begins to laugh, a low, quiet chuckle that builds and builds into an almost devious cackle. “Aww, that’s cute. Venty Wenty still thinks he can play hero.” He pulls his lips up around his teeth, the expression more akin to a snarl than it is a smile. “Well, tough luck, sunshine. There’s nothing left for you to save.”

Ventus’s hands curl into fists at his side. The remnants of their fear die within his tightened grip. “What do you mean? You’re still here, aren’t you?”

“That’s debatable,” Vanitas says. He begins to pace along the glassy ground, left and right, but never forward. Never closing that distance. “If you’re asking if I’m still alive, then yes. We wouldn’t be able to talk like this otherwise. But I’m only _here_ because of you and your incessant _yearning._ You just couldn’t seem to leave good enough alone, could you?” He chuckles quietly, almost to himself. “No. Of course you couldn’t. Your _light_ wouldn’t let you.”

“What are you _talking_ about?” Voice shrill, Ventus begins to step forward. 

“Didn’t you say we had a choice?” The almost teasing lilt to Vanitas’ tone vanishes in an instant as he fixes Ventus with a piercing glare. Ventus freezes in his step, eyeing him cautiously. “You say you meant what you said back then. Did you mean that part, too? Or was that just for show?”

Ventus feels his shoulders begin to shake. “Of course I did,” he bites out. He inches towards Vanitas again, managing a few meager steps forward before Void Gear flashes into existence within the other boy’s palm, and Ventus finds himself frozen in place once more. The tip of the blade is leveled pointedly towards Ventus’s neck, though the fear he feels within his chest is quickly counterbalanced by the resentment that seems to gravitate off Vanitas in waves. 

Vanitas quirks his lips up into a devious sneer before he barks out yet another laugh, cold and quick and empty. “Oh, come on. Don’t lie to me, Ventus. You know you were never any good at it.”

This time, it’s Ventus’s turn to snarl. “I’m not lying to you, Vanitas, and I wasn’t lying to you back then, either. We _should_ be free to choose. I just—”

“You just don’t agree with mine.” 

Ventus gapes at him, grasping for a response that doesn’t shrivel into ash in his mouth. He comes up empty, and Vanitas fixes him with a glare that could cut him down cleaner than his keyblade ever could.

A moment passes before Vanitas speaks again. “You’re always like this, you know?” he mutters. “All of you are. Running around, throwing out lifelines to people who are already dead. You just can’t... sit _still_ for one damn moment.” The blade trembles within his grip, and Ventus thinks he can hear Vanitas’s breath hitch. When he speaks again, his words are hushed. “Do you have any idea how it feels? To never be able to separate your own existence from someone else’s?” 

Sorrow overflows Vanitas’s heart and spills effortlessly into Ventus’s own. Ventus grits his teeth, almost worried that he might drown in the sensation. He searches for something in Vanitas’s gaze that tells him he’ll strike him down if he tries anything, and when he doesn’t find it, Ventus chances a reply. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. He thinks of the way his heart has stirred in this place, the way it seems to work in tandem with Vanitas’s, like a wicked game of tug of war. 

_This is what he means, isn’t it?_

Ventus continues, voice shaking. “I— I don’t know, not really. But… if you come with me, I think we could figure it out. We could help each other. Please, Vanitas.” Breathing deeply, he swallows past the sadness. “Let me help you.”

Vanitas’s eyes are wide as he stares at Ventus. For a moment, Ventus thinks that he might have broken through. Then, like clockwork, the wall flies up yet again, a smile of plaster stapled once more to Vanitas’s features. His eyes still shimmer in the eerie luminosity, an insignificant fracture in the bitter facade. Another laugh tumbles from his throat, watery and teetering on the edge of collapse. Animosity buries the sadness alive and leaves it to suffocate, with Ventus scrambling for purchase underneath. “You know,” Vanitas muses, “I almost forgot how it felt. Living my life in your shadow. Then you woke up, and all I can do is remember.

“Even here, it’s suffocating,” he continues, leveling his keyblade towards Ventus again. “You and your caring. You and your _pity._ You don’t understand, Ventus. The only time I’ve ever been able to manage this is when you weren’t part of the equation. You really wanna _help_ me?” Vanitas all but shrieks. “Then take your own advice. Leave me alone!”

With a cry of frustration, Vanitas twists his keyblade around in his grasp, gripping the hilt with both hands and plunging the weapon into the ground beneath him. The platform trembles with the force of the impact, and Ventus yelps in surprise as the once solid ground begins to shift. Fissures erupt from the epicenter like fault lines, carving jagged paths across the crystalline surface and inching closer to the edges with each passing second.

Realization hits Ventus like a well-aimed Firaga spell, and he staggers. He isn’t sure if it’s the shock of Vanitas’s action or the station’s mounting instability that causes it. “What are you _doing?_ ” he cries, disbelief choking his words.

Vanitas scoffs. “I thought that much was obvious,” he says bitterly. His keyblade vanishes in a flash of muted light, and the cracks left in its wake look more like the shadows of spiderwebs. He meets Ventus’ eyes once more, faulty halcyon burning holes into the skin. “It's simple. If you can’t find it in that heart of yours to sever this bond, then I will.”

Ventus can feel his lips trembling. “No,” he pleads, tremors wracking the syllable. He pushes himself up, urging his trembling legs to break into a run. “No, wait! You can’t— Vanitas!” 

The name claws its way out of his mouth in desperation, hand poised to reach out and take hold of his other half before the webbed shadows erupt in a blinding flare, and the glass beneath their feet is cleaved cleanly in two. Vanitas hovers amidst the flurry of splintered color, red and white and gold shimmering like blood and raindrops in the air around him. For a moment, he’s floating, almost ethereal.

And then, he’s falling.

Ventus skids to a stop before the jagged divide, falling abruptly to his knees. He juts his arm out into the cavernous space between them, barely giving credence to the fact that if Vanitas could actually grab hold of it, he would most likely just slap it aside. 

For a fleeting moment, time seems to stop. Vanitas watches Ventus with a cruel smile, teeth bared in that provocative grin that always seemed to be begging him to join the fight, and his expression spells out everything he doesn’t have the time to say with words.

_This is the path that I’ve chosen._

The exchange lasts just long enough for a wordless cry to tear itself out of Ventus’ throat. He watches with empty arms as gravity catches Vanitas in its open palms, carrying him into the cavernous darkness below.

Ventus screams, and his heart does the same. He knows that this time, the fear he feels is entirely his own.

✧ ✧ ✧

Waking up is like being doused with ice cold water. Ventus’s eyes fly open, his body jerking upwards in a frenzied motion. His arm follows the rest of his motions, shooting forward with splayed fingers only to come up grasping at empty air. The remnants of a scream die at the back of his throat, but he still feels the sting of all the other ones that came before it.

**_Vanitas._ **

His hand flies to his chest, and he feels the shuddering of his pulse beneath his palm. Fear still sits heavy beneath the uneven beats, like butterflies against his skin, but for all the wrong reasons. Clutching the fabric of his shirt in a tight fist, Ventus draws in a trembling breath and attempts to steady his quivering limbs.

A few seconds pass before Chirithy manifests at the foot of his bed. Unlike most other times, Ventus doesn’t startle at their sudden appearance. He looks at them, still breathless, eyes wide and unblinking. 

Chirithy gazes at him curiously for a moment before their expression melts into something softer, a familiar sort of sadness that makes Ventus think this is far from the first time they’ve seen something like this happen to someone they care about. They raise their tiny arm, gesturing towards Ventus’s face with a quiet murmur. “You’re…”

Ventus brushes his fingers against the skin beneath his eyes and finds half dried tears carving quiet paths down his cheeks. The abundant fear situated within his chest gives way to a sudden oppressive emptiness, abrupt enough to elicit a quiet gasp from within him. He feels his lower lip begin to tremble, and he tucks it between his teeth out of instinct.

“You wanna talk about it?”

Ventus shakes his head, scared of what will come out if he tries to open his mouth again. The silence digs itself into his skin like sharpened fingernails, but he’d take that prickle of pain over the alternative of screaming loud enough to wake Terra and Aqua. Chirithy continues to watch him with concern, their gaze only wavering when Ventus holds his arms out invitingly. They leap forward without hesitation, and he hugs them tightly.

It isn’t enough.

Beyond his window, stars dot the sky like pinholes. Ventus gazes at them with none of the giddiness he did ten years ago, on the night of that meteor shower. The night before everything changed for him forever. He watches the stars twinkle, and he thinks of the pitch black void of sleep.

The difference between the hearts of worlds and the hearts of people were staggering.

More tears form in his eyes, blurring the view, and Ventus can’t suppress the watery laugh that tumbles from his lips. 

Chirithy glances up at him, tilting their head. “What’s so funny?”

Ventus laughs again, and the tears spill alongside the sound. “I don’t know,” he sniffles. “I guess I just get it now. What people mean, when they say you only know what you have once it’s gone.”

**Author's Note:**

> kh twit: @[vanitascore](https://twitter.com/vanitascore)


End file.
